Bittersweet Lucidity
by Blackdeer7
Summary: In the aftermath of the notorious (disastrous?) first meeting on Illium, Shepard is forced to come to terms with her non-existent relationship with Liara. It's a task that is easier said than done, but sometimes clarity emerges from the most unlikely source.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Illium. A garden world with the unique fortune of being located between the Terminus system and the Asari Republics. As such it had become a major port of harbor for various types of commerce, and to promote this trade, influential government agents relaxed the normally stringent custom laws of Council space on product safety and sapient trafficking. Officially, Illium was not an asari world; but it was colonized and operated by asari corporate interests. To Commander Lakota Shepard the planet and its traits acted as an eerie allegory to its founders because she could draw easy parallels between the characteristics of the world's cities to every asari she had known.

Standing near the railing of the open market of Nos Astra, Illium's capitol, the Spectre watched as the setting sun cast brilliant shades of orange and red across the metropolitan skyline. Although the picturesque view was both beautiful and serene, her turbulent thoughts were anything but calm. She found herself captivated by the regal ambiance and graceful architecture of the city being bathed in the last light of day, but she knew that beneath its surface lurked a dark shadow, a harshness within its symmetry. A majestic city built on a foundation of laws that allowed indentured servitude and the legalization of everything short of murder. Matriarch Benezia, Councilor Tevos, Samara, Shiala, Aria T'Loak and now, Liara. Each was exquisitely beautiful with a physical allure that ensnared those in close proximity, but they also possessed—in equal measure—a certain ruthlessness hidden within.

"_Next time, show me some respect. No more games, no manipulations. If you can't do that, then don't bother contacting me."_

Four weeks had passed since Lakota had spoken those words to Liara T'Soni—prothean researcher, information broker and… her former lover? One-time friend? Old acquaintance? Only in those quiet moments of darkest solitude did she bitterly admit that didn't know what place Liara held in her life anymore. She told herself that it was best to let her doubts and questions go, to stop dwelling on the past and get on with her life. That was easier said than done, though. Logically, she knew that over two years had gone by for the asari, but for her it only felt like a few months. Cerberus may have resurrected her body, but they hadn't resurrected her life.

After her encounter with Liara—in the asari's office, which was just fifty meters away of where she currently stood—Lakota knew without a doubt that the information broker had been able to do what she had not: she had moved on. The menial hacking task and callous dismissal that followed made it abundantly clear that Liara had changed and was no longer interested in maintaining a connection, friendship or otherwise. The Spectre had been angry about the brush off, but what really stung the most was the unexpected letdown, the disappointment left in the wake of an unsatisfying reunion. The one person she had trusted with everything had slammed the door in her face. She had never felt as alone as the moment she walked out of Liara's office, leaving hope, longing and love at the feet of the one who no longer returned those favors. For her own sanity, Lakota knew that somehow, she would have to let go.

The Spectre had gone through breakups before, had experienced loss before, but this was something new. She had always been the one who ended the relationship; she had never been the one who was left trying to make sense of the broken pieces. The situation would have been much easier to process if after their argument, she hadn't realized that she had actually been in love with the prothean expert.

To help mitigate the healing process, the Spectre spent the last few weeks focusing all of her energy on the current mission—gathering information about vanishing human colonies and putting together a powerful strike team to lead the charge once the mystery was unraveled. She adopted the old adage of "one day at a time", which helped, but there were moments when the pain of loss overwhelmed her senses and she retreated to the solitude of her cabin. Garrus and Tali had taken a particular interest in her well-being, attempting to distract her with invitations to poker and movie nights, but she hadn't accepted any as of yet. Such social gatherings didn't appeal to her; they seemed more of a nuisance and would require too much energy to be interactive with others. Not to mention that the sad looks they shot her when they thought she wasn't looking were extraordinarily irritating. She didn't need their pity, she just needed time. Perhaps a lot of it, but patience was a virtue.

So instead of comfort coming from old friends, it came from a new one, someone who had no knowledge of her past—Thane Krios. Becoming acquainted with the repentant drell assassin, learning about the details of his life, and helping him get some closure with his son had been an inadvertent boon in her healing process. Thane's unexpected reunion with Kolyat reminded Lakota that life was full of hope and surprises; she just had to be open to the experience. After that, she donned a new attitude—to focus on what she could control and let her heart heal in its own time. Things had been going fairly well until the moment she stepped back on Illium, then all that she thought was behind her reared its ugly head and slapped her in the face.

The Spectre leaned forward, resting her forearms on the railing and sighed heavily. If given a choice, she wouldn't have set foot back on Illium, but Miranda had needed help finding her sister and this was where the search brought them. Against her better judgment, she considered seeing Liara, sending a message so the asari knew she was back in Nos Astra, but she didn't give into temptation. As an information broker, Liara was probably privy to her arrival anyway, but that thought didn't offer her any comfort, rather its effect was more akin to torture, both emotional and mental. The fact that Liara hadn't contacted her just cemented the many reasons why reaching out to the asari was a bad idea. But that knowledge and conviction wasn't enough to block the memories of their time together from haunting her thoughts, or stop the pointless introspection that followed. Now that Oriana was safe and she was free to return to the _Normandy_, Lakota found herself rooted to this spot in the market, within a stone's throw from Liara, a witness to the planet's setting sun and in a way, a chapter of her life.

Lakota's chest tightened as uninvited images flashed within her mind: large, radiant blue eyes twinkling in merriment; smooth azure-hued cheeks playfully dotted with random freckles; full lips curling into an intoxicatingly coy smile. The Spectre forced herself to take quick shallow breaths while the barrage of intimate remembrances from the past continued to flood her senses—Liara's unique scent, a sweet floral bouquet mixed with an unknown spice; the soothing tones of her voice while she whispered words of love; the look of adoration and lust in her eyes as they lay entwined together in bed. Lakota's fingers clutched the railing for support as she squeezed her eyes shut, barricading the white-hot tears that threatened to fall. She would not, could not, break down in the middle of the busy market, but the crowds of people brought to focus just how utterly alone she felt, and underscored the loneliness she tried so desperately to deny.

Since waking up in a Cerberus medical facility, aligning herself with the leader of the terrorist faction and being thrust into another mission with ramifications on a galactic scale, Lakota had little time to think beyond what was occurring in the moment. She wanted it that way. Too much time on her hands meant dwelling on issues that were out of her control—like the gap Liara's absence left in her life—and that was wasted time. On some level, she knew it was normal for her mind to be occupied with thoughts of Liara, but on another level she hated the weakness. Two years had been stolen from her and she wasn't going to be a willing participant in aimlessly squandering any more.

Slowly, Lakota forced her eyes open. The rims burned with unshed tears, but she gritted her teeth and coerced her gaze to pan across the crowed market. Two salarians discussed a breeding rights agreement. A volus bargained with an asari vendor, attempting to lower the purchase price of a new suit. Three humans, two men and a woman, walked across the commons while in the midst of a heated discussion. An asari and krogan stood close to each other, holding hands.

The Spectre tilted her head slightly and scrutinized the three humans more closely. They wore casual clothes, but Lakota noticed the distinct signs of concealed weapons beneath their jackets. Growing up in the slums of Mexico City gave her a unique perception regarding clandestine activities and easily earmarked these three for more than what they seemed. Quickly, she surveyed the rest of the market and, along with the direction the humans were headed, she identified the group's mark: an asari who was walking toward a blind alley just off the commons. She would never have asked for this type of distraction, but she was grateful for it anyway. Without hesitation, she headed in the direction of the humans and was silently thankful to still be wearing her maroon kestrel armor and have her Carnifex pistol, _Menhit_, strapped to her thigh. Lakota named all of her personal weapons after goddesses from Earth folklore or myths, and her pistol was no exception. Menhit was an Egyptian goddess of war whose name meant "she who massacres." This never failed to put a smile on the Spectre's face when she explained it to those on the other side of the barrel.

The twilight rays of light offered enough luminance to adequately navigate the wide, immaculate corridor between buildings and see every nook and cranny. In Mexico City, the alleyways were cluttered with everything from scrap metal to refuse to homeless people. Leave it to Illium to have the cleanest alleys in the galaxy.

As Lakota entered the alleyway a few meters behind the humans, she drew out _Menhit, _activated her tactical cloak, but said nothing to alert others to her presence. Instead she took in the scene before her. The asari, who was wearing black leather pants and a white, short hemmed leather jacket with dark purple stripes along the sides, faced away from her and was talking to two newcomers—a salarian and another male human, both outfitted in light armor. Lakota assumed that they had been waiting in the alley. The three humans she followed made their way to the group, encircling the asari who, to her credit, didn't give any outward signs of being nervous. The salarian was agitated and his voice echoed through the alleyway as he demanded payment. The asari made a reply, but her voice was too soft for Lakota to hear what she had to say. The fact that the humans all proceeded to draw and then point their pistols at the asari, made it amply clear that whatever she had said didn't please them.

What happened next occurred so fast that it only registered as a blur, with the Spectre's well-honed battle instincts catapulting her into action. The asari braced her arms and legs, then released a biotic flare which knocked everyone in the circular blast radius off their feet. Lakota was far enough away to not be affected by the biotic explosion, but when she saw the three humans closest to her attempt to get up, she didn't hesitate. She kneed one male in the head, knocking him back to the ground, unconscious. Then, as her tactical cloak broke, she swung her right hand in a wide arc—the pistol handle connecting harshly with the woman's temple, having the same devastating effect on her as her companion. The Spectre had no intention of killing anyone, she just wanted to incapacitate. When she saw the salarian slam mercilessly into the wall next to her, she realized the asari didn't share the same sentiment.

Lakota quickly crossed the distance to the third human as he got unsteadily to his feet and punched him in the gut with her left hand, then as he doubled-over, she brought down _Menhit_ on his head, sending him sprawling face first to the floor. He didn't move afterward. She looked up just in time to catch sight of the last human as he sailed over her head, screaming, and then smashing into the alley wall—his light armor absorbing most of the impact. He fell to the ground, but somehow managed to land on his feet. That turned out to be a bad bit of luck when the salarian—who had also been biotically thrown—impacted with him a moment later. They both crashed into the wall then fell to the ground like puppets whose strings had been cut.

The asari turned around and Lakota was finally able to see her face— bright, indigo eyes sparkling with a bit of amusement, high regal cheek bones, slightly pouty purple lips and small tattoos which started on her forehead and followed the length of her jaw. She was nothing short of gorgeous.

"Lysandra?" said the Spectre incredulously.

"Commander Shepard." The asari's right arm swung up, encased in biotic energy and the Spectre saw a bluish tendril speed past her. Then, after the sound of a whip-like crack, another human male—who had apparently been sneaking up behind her—flew through the air and headlong into a wall.

Lakota looked at the unconscious man slumped on the ground. "There's always one more imbecile than you counted on."

The asari's gaze locked onto the Spectre with an animal-like ferocity. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I _was_ attempting to rescue you."

Lysandra walked slowly, methodically, toward Lakota, every step laced with a hint of erotic undertones. The sultry sway of her hips; the perfect posture of her spine which seemed to accentuate her breasts that were hidden beneath a loose violet camisole; the graceful movements of her arms and legs that gave the impression of her floating across the pavement. She stopped when she was inches away from Lakota—her eyes carefully inspecting the human before she spoke. "Is this something you do often? Help those who don't need your help?"

"It's a thankless job, but I have a lot of karma to burn off."

"Still a smartass." The asari eyed the Spectre appraisingly from head to toe. "I heard that you were dead."

Lakota grinned. "Media ploy. The paparazzi were becoming unbearable."

"So you broke your seclusion to come rescue me?" A small smile curled provocatively on the asari's lips. "I'm flattered."

Lakota met Lysandra, an old friend of Wrex's, on the Citadel, soon after the battle with Saren and Sovereign. She was an emissary and business woman who helped—in a roundabout way—track down a group from the Spectre's past that had attempted to assassinate Councilor Anderson. From their initial meeting, an erotic undercurrent had easily flowed between them—playfully intelligent and seductively enticing. At the time, Lakota was in a full-fledged relationship with Liara, so the interest never went beyond a peripheral acknowledgement, but they both knew it existed. And now, almost three years after being introduced, when their eyes locked together in a subtle, but startling exchange, she knew it still lingered.

In an attempt to change the subject and diffuse some of the building flirtatious tension, Lakota averted her eyes to the salarian and humans lying on the ground. "So what's the story with this group?"

"None of your business," said the asari imperiously.

"Don't you think the biotic slam-dunk was a bit much?"

"No."

"You could have hurt someone in the marketplace with that biotic flare of yours."

Lysandra crossed her arms in front of her chest and donned a bored expression. "There are two kinds of pedestrians, Shepard, the quick and the dead."

"Now who's being the smartass?"

"You must be rubbing off on me," purred Lysandra, in a low, throaty octave.

A vision of that very activity flashed briefly in Lakota's mind, and she inhaled sharply.

Lysandra noticed the reaction and let her eyes roll over the Spectre's strong svelte frame as though appraising a fine piece of jewelry—taking in each soft curve, each hard cut and delving into the hauntingly smooth hues of color. After a moment, she tilted her head and smiled radiantly. "I suppose the least I could do is buy you a drink… for coming to my rescue. Or do you have other plans… like rushing off to save the galaxy?"

"Save the galaxy? Isn't that a little dramatic?"

Lysandra laughed. It was a deep, merry sound that hinted at all the things left to innuendo. "As I recall, drama follows you like stink on a varren."

"I guess that's better than fleas."

"Depends on the flea that's biting," parried the emissary, her eyes shimmering in mischief.

Lakota felt a pleasant twisting sensation in her belly, but tried to ignore it. "Where's Kolrak? Isn't this sort of thing right up his alley?" Grinning, she added, "Pun intended."

"Clever girl," said Lysandra before returning a coy smile. "I have him doing… other things."

"Shouldn't he be here, protecting you?" Kolrak was Lysandra's krogan bodyguard, and during their interactions on the Citadel, had never been more than a few meters from her side.

"If I were in danger, then he would be here."

Lakota looked around at the six individuals on the ground who were starting to stir, then tighten her hold on her pistol. "They didn't pose a danger?"

The asari rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Don't make me laugh. They didn't even pose a problem."

From what Wrex had told her, Lysandra was as accomplished as any commando, but much deadlier. Intellect laced with a drive for ambition could be a volatile concoction, especially when wrapped within a visually stunning package.

"So what do you say to that drink, Shepard?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh?" Lysandra looked up to a security camera on a wall of the alleyway. "Does your girlfriend still have you on a short leash?"

The Spectre followed the asari's line of sight, then frowned. "There's no girlfriend these days."

"Perfect." The asari's voice was almost chipper. "Then you have no good reason to deny yourself the pleasure of my company. Not that having a girlfriend should have stopped you."

Smiling ruefully, Lakota said, "It's still not a good idea."

"And why is that?"

"Well, for starters, you tried to kill me. Twice."

"You pressed a pistol to my head," countered Lysandra.

"Which means we're not on the friendliest of terms."

"That was over two years ago," said the asari dismissively. "Petty grudges shouldn't be coveted for more than one. Even for an asari, life's too short."

Lakota scowled and mentally added another item to the list of things that should have changed in the last two years. "Being angry over someone sending me to my death is petty?"

"For something that was business related, yes." Lysandra crossed arms in front of her chest, then shifted her hips, settling her weight on her right leg—a strong, but sassy pose. "If I truly wanted you dead, Shepard, then I would have continued until I succeeded. As it was, your death wasn't something that I desired."

"And what did you desire, then?" Lakota raised one of her eyebrows, actually feeling a bit curious now.

The emissary's arms dropped to her sides as she stepped close to the human and leaned in so her lips hovered next to the Spectre's ear. "You," she whispered in a low dulcet tone.

Lakota's eyes widened in surprise as an exquisite tingling sensation rippled down her spine. She knew what was about to happen, Lysandra had made this bold flirtatious move once before, but she hadn't cared that much for it back then. However, this time she gave into the moment and turned her head to face the asari emissary. Seconds later, plush, succulent lips gently fastened onto hers, holding them in a hauntingly sensual kiss embedded with untold promise and lingering pleasures. Neither moved to deepen the erotically charged caress but neither pulled away either.

Before the tendrils of the hypnotic spell drifted away, Lysandra's moist inquisitive tongue slipped out and languidly stole a taste from Lakota's lips. Then she stepped back and, as though nothing had happened, smiled innocently. "I also desired my money."

The Spectre took a deep breath and swallowed hard as she tried to subdue the delicious memory of the soft lips on hers. "So you mentioned." After their last confrontation, Lysandra had sent a message explaining the reasons behind her actions and warning the Spectre away. This occurred just before the _Normandy SR-1_ embarked on the ill-fated mission into geth space and was subsequently destroyed. "Even if I believe that to be true…," Lakota's hands swept out in front of her, as though unveiling her armor, "I'm not exactly dressed for a social gathering."

Lysandra tilted her head skeptically and continued to smile.

Lakota mentally chided herself for vocalizing such a lame excuse, she was usually better at circumventing conversations, but nothing else had come to mind. Lysandra's silence meant that she, too, thought her pretext was pedestrian, one not worthy of a reply. Grudgingly, she admitted that she was enjoying the playful exchange with the asari emissary… and the kiss… she didn't want it to end, but for some reason she also felt guilty. Her gaze returned to the security camera.

"How long has it been since you've had any fun, Shepard?"

The answer of "two years" flashed in the Spectre's mind. "None of your business."

"That means it's been too long."

"Maybe," Lakota conceded. She couldn't explain it. There was something about this asari that drew her in, something familiar, but yet at the same time, something new.

Lysandra stepped close, once again invading Lakota's personal space. "Then, don't you think it's time you had some?"

"I've got responsibilities."

"We all do. But we also have a responsibility to ourselves."

Silence pervaded the moment until the Spectre finally nodded her head. "Okay. Fine. One drink."

Lysandra was right. It had been too long since any fun had found its way to her. On the _Normandy_, she was the commanding officer which meant that she had a role to fill regardless of whatever personal hell she was going through. Both the ship's crew and the squad she was putting together looked to her for leadership and needed to trust her command capabilities. She felt it was essential for them to see her as strong, confident and determined especially now, when the mission they were on was becoming increasingly hazardous. So in order to gain their confidence and trust she showed them that mask: the soldier who survived Akuze, the commander who led the fight against Saren and Sovereign, the Spectre who returned from the Void, and even while interacting with each of them on a personal level that mask never completely came off.

In direct contrast, Lysandra was an old acquaintance who undoubtedly had her own personal agenda, but placed no demands on the Spectre. The emissary was neither part of her crew nor her squad and Lakota suspected that this was one of the reasons why she felt drawn to her. Another reason was the clever banter and witty retorts which were ripe with flirtatious innuendo- intelligent rhetoric enmeshed with an innate essence of seduction. It had been a long time since someone challenged Lakota with words and the halo of enticement it produced—both thrilling and intoxicating, took her by surprise. For right or wrong, she was genuinely intrigued by the emissary and wanted more time with her. So, as she holstered her pistol, she consciously compartmentalized the feelings of guilt that danced on the edge of her mind.

Glancing at the still woozy combatants lying on the ground, Lakota said, "What about them? The authorities will want to know what happened."

The asari chuckled. "Shepard, there won't be any authorities. If there were, then my message would never get to its intended recipient."

"Who is the intended recipient?"

"None of your business. Now come on," said Lysandra as she wrapped her left arm around Lakota's right, coercing her out of the alleyway, "you look in need of a good time."

To be continued…

* * *

**Author's End Note:**

Lysandra was introduced in "Old Friends Revisited" – a mystery/adventure/romance with Lakota Shepard, Liara and Wrex, and then further fleshed out within the pages of "In the Meantime" which highlights some of her personal moments just before or just after interacting with Shepard in the before mentioned story. She originally started out as a peripheral character, but her strong voice and brazen demand for attention endeared me to her, so it didn't take long before the small part she played became much, much larger. What can I say… she is sinfully fun to write.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So what brings you to Illium?" Lakota sat across the table from Lysandra in a cozy corner alcove of Stardust, a small upscale restaurant owned by two asari. The proprietors weren't bondmates, but according to Lysandra, together they had over four hundred years of culinary experience and an impressive array of awards to prove it. As one of the most renowned establishments on all of Illium, same day reservations were usually impossible to attain, but being an emissary with governmental influence had its perks.

"The untimely death of one of my business partners," replied Lysandra. A sly smile curled on her lips as she took a sip of wine, then placed the long-stemmed glass back on the white cloth that covered the table. "I think you knew her. Nassana Dantius."

The Spectre's eyes widened in surprise. She had known Nassana all too well. From the first time their paths crossed when the asari executive manipulated the Spectre into killing her sister, to their second meeting a few weeks ago when Thane ended her life. "Please tell me she wasn't your sister."

"Thankfully, no," replied the emissary. "The Goddess may have embraced her, but everyone else thought she was a bitch."

An hour earlier when they left the alleyway, Lakota had agreed to meet Lysandra for a drink but only after she returned to the _Normandy_ and exchanged her armor for something more appropriate to wear. Once she arrived back on the frigate she spent most of her time multitasking—informing Miranda that she'd be unavailable for the rest of the day, storing her weapons, putting away her armor, and showering—all while mulling over whether or not meeting the emissary was wise. When no easy answer was found, Lakota sighed heavily, deciding that a moral argument between right or wrong was a waste of time, she was going to meet Lysandra no matter what the answer, so instead she debated over what to wear.

She didn't want to seem too provocative, that could be interpreted as being desperate nor did she want to dress so casually that she seemed indifferent because some part of her was actually attracted to the emissary. She just wasn't sure if the rest of her was ready to be interested. After discarding one outfit after another she was finally able to settle on something in the middle of provocative and casual, something that adequately reflected her mood. So now instead of wearing her armor, she was dressed to kill in a completely different way. Tight, boot cut brown leather pants, brown leather boots and on top she wore a loose, knitted cotton tank top the color of sand. In lieu of pulling her hair back into its trademark ponytail, she let the black wavy locks fall freely around her shoulders. The strands were still slightly damp from the quick shower she had taken which only added to the relaxed but sexy look.

From across the table, Lysandra's eyes shamelessly followed the contours of Lakota's athletic shape, her gaze reminiscent of a predatory animal. As her eyes continued to undress the Spectre, the tip of the asari's tongue peeked out between her lips, licking the top one a moment before she gently bit her lower in a subtle but intentionally erotic display. "Although it could never be proven," she said, "I know for a fact that Nassana killed most of her business competitors."

"Yet you're still among the living." Lakota's right hand hovered next to her glass of purplish liquid, her forefinger slowly tracing its circular opening. She, too, had decided to try the house wine, the same asari wine that Lysandra was drinking.

"I'm not most people."

"No, you're not," chuckled the Spectre before taking a sip from her glass. Its scent carried a light earthy aroma and its flavors were reminiscent of sweet cherries and raspberries mixed with a hint of cinnamon. The feel of the wine was like liquid silk gently caressing her palate. Lakota took a deep breath as the sensation of déjà vu suddenly rippled through her body. She'd had this wine once before in a very similar setting, but with a very different asari.

"Did you know she hired someone to kill her sister?"

It took a moment for Lakota to realize that she'd been asked a question and then was thankful that some part of her mind had been paying attention to the conversation. "Are you sure she hired them to kill her?" she asked, sounding more defensive than intended. "The way I heard it, she conned them."

"The way you heard it?" said Lysandra skeptically.

Lakota shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. "As a Spectre, I hear things."

"That's quite a good memory for an event that never hit the news vids." The asari rested her arms on the table and leaned in conspiratorially. "You know, it occurred a couple of years ago, right before you… disappeared."

"You don't say."

"Oh, I do… and I also say that's quite a coincidence." A knowing smirk played across the emissary's lips. "Trouble is, I don't believe in coincidences."

"Neither do I," said Lakota, dismissively. "Too hard to plan for."

The emissary leaned back in her chair, tilting her head slightly, which gave the impression that she was in deep contemplation. "So if our meeting wasn't a coincidence, what was it then? Fate? Divine intervention?" Laughing merrily, she added, "Or just a sliver of bad luck?"

Lakota grinned. "Maybe the universe has a perverse sense of humor."

"Maybe so," said the emissary cryptically. "Maybe so."

Breathing in deeply, the Spectre took the time to luxuriate in the sedate atmosphere of the restaurant and stole a few covert gazes at the asari across from her. Lysandra was still wearing her form fitting black leather pants, but had removed the white short-hemmed leather jacket, which revealed a dark purple camisole. The violet color elegantly enhanced the blueness of her skin—which, to Lakota's eye, seemed slightly darker than that of Liara—while the sleeveless aspect effectively displayed her well-toned arms. Like all asari Lakota had seen, in human terms, she was very good-looking.

As they both drank from their glasses, their eyes locked together and the Spectre found herself captivated by the deep indigo hues of the emissary's eyes. They reminded her of the majestic, multi-colored halos produced by the auroras in the Serpent Nebula that she'd seen while spying out a view port on the Citadel. That was another shared experience, one which, right now, she wished she hadn't remembered. She thought to herself that the universe really did have a perverse sense of humor, then took another sip from her glass, swallowing the memory as though it were the wine slipping down her throat, leaving a burning sensation in its passing.

Lakota tried to think of something to say before the silence became awkward, then she recalled seeing the emissary's credentials hanging on the wall of her office the first time they met. "So… three doctorates, a CEO, an emissary… and still so young. How did you manage it?" she asked, her interest genuinely piqued.

"I've found that the secret to success is sincerity." The start of a sly smile curled at the corner of Lysandra's lips. "Once you learn to fake that, you've got it made."

As quickly as it had been drawn away, Lakota's attention was again focused solely on the asari in front of her. She was fascinated by the emissary's ability to drawl out every syllable out to its sensual peak while saturating each word and phrase with sexual innuendo. It was an impressive gift. The Spectre raised her glass in a toast. "To a remarkable woman."

Lysandra grinned, then raised her glass, as well. "To a charming rescue."

Just after she returned her glass to the table, Lakota commented, "All of the subterfuge though… seems like a hard way to make friends."

"I'm not interested in making friends, Shepard. In my line of work, friends come and go, but more often than not, they are a liability. Surely you, of all people, understand that."

Lakota remained silent. She understood and respected Lysandra's point of view, but she wasn't sure if she would be capable of living a life devoid of friends.

Taking the Spectre's silence as an affirmation, the emissary added, "It's my enemies that tend to accumulate."

"Interesting. So am I a friend or an enemy?" queried the Spectre. Her voice was playful, but there was a sobriety laced within its tone.

The emissary's eyes twinkled mischievously. "That's still up for debate."

"At least I'm not easy to pin down."

"But it would be fun to try," said Lysandra teasingly. "And speaking of easy… there's no more scar. I didn't peg you as one for cosmetic surgery."

"Couldn't be helped." Although her cybernetic scars had just recently healed, the one the asari was referring to was a seven inch scar that had cut across her face diagonally. She'd gotten it when she was fifteen and still living on Earth. After waking up in the Cerberus facility, it was the first thing she noticed that was missing. Even now, three months later, she still felt naked without it.

"Too bad," said Lysandra, seductively biting her lower lip. "It added a hint of mystery and intrigue to your public image." She took another small sip of her wine. "If it couldn't be helped, how did it happen?"

Lakota liked the emissary, but she had no intention of discussing the last couple of years with her, whether she had been awake for them or not. Part of Lysandra's charm lay in the fact that she wasn't tied to any galactic struggles and the Spectre wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. "That's a discussion for another time and another place. For now, I'll just say that it was an experience."

"Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted."

Lakota shook her head as the memory of her last conversation with Liara flashed through her mind, then she raised her glass in a mock toast. "Precisely."

"If your scar is off limits, then what are the chances that you'll fill me in on what you've been up to for the last two years? Faking your death seems extreme, even to avoid the media."

Flashing her most bewitching smile, the Spectre said, "You have no idea what lengths I will go through to avoid the media maws."

"I do remember some incident about you punching a reporter."

"Oh yeah… that…" Lakota recalled the satisfying experience of slugging Khalisah Al-Jilani in the face. "Good times."

"So… the last two years?"

"Let's save that for another time and place, too."

"So we can't talk about your missing scar, the last two years of your life, and I'm guessing that what you're doing on Illium right now is off-limits, as well."

"No. That we can talk about… I'm here having a drink with you."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Actually, I am." To her own amazement, Lakota realized she was truly having a good time. It had been so long that she'd almost forgotten what having fun felt like. Being in the company of someone who didn't have any preconceived notions about her and who was willing to take her at face value was both rejuvenating and refreshing. If a subject was off-limits there was no prying, no second degree, just a quiet acknowledgement. "Thank you for inviting me."

Lysandra rested both of her elbows on the table, a shoulder's width apart, and brought her hands together which formed a makeshift triangle. Then while gazing at the human across from her, she rested her chin on her outstretched thumbs, as though deliberating on some complex puzzle. "Since the first time we met, I was fascinated by you. An impressive, well decorated Alliance soldier, the first human Spectre, the human who saved the Citadel…"

"Don't forget charming, well dressed and good-looking."

Lysandra grinned before continuing. "Back then, I thought your life and the struggles you overcame could be seen as symbols to inspire others, but now I suspect that your sole purpose in life is to serve as a warning for others."

Lakota laughed out loud then reached to the silver, floor-standing wine bucket that was positioned next to the table, grabbed the bottle and proceeded to refill both of their glasses. Still chuckling over the emissary's playful sassing, she said, "And that doesn't bother you?"

Without hesitation, the asari purred seductively, "I like danger."

As she replaced the bottle in its stand, Lakota's body shuddered at the obviously suggestive statement. This particular asari was brazen, and with good reason. She was intelligent and beautiful with a lively personality that could charm the creds off a volus. Her bravado was well-matched by the boldness in which she pursued her interests and in this moment, Lakota knew she was a person of interest, but that knowledge did nothing to aid the feud brewing between her heart and her head. Her attraction to the asari seated across from her was undeniable, but the cords still binding her to another became more apparent as the night progressed.

"Life _is_ an endless struggle, full of frustrations and challenges," teased the Spectre, "but eventually you find a hair stylist that you like."

"Asari don't have that issue."

"So not only do you get a thousand year lifespan, you get the easy road, too. Bloody lucky to be so different."

"Don't you worry, Shepard, you're unique… just like every other human."

"You know…" said Lakota in feigned offence, "if you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague."

The emissary smiled softly, then raised her glass. "I have a confession. Sometimes, I drink to make other people interesting."

"Sometimes too much drink is not enough to make that happen."

"Indeed." Lysandra took a sip from her glass. "It's refreshing not to feel that way right now."

Lakota remained silent, but nodded her head in agreement.

The emissary frowned, then put her glass down on the table. "Let's get out of here."

After nodding once again, the Spectre stood and held out her hand to the asari.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

The pair walked arm in arm through the open market of Nos Astra enjoying the fresh air, which was cool but not uncomfortable on Lakota's bare arms. Although the city lights provided enough illumination to see by, the night sky was starless and the rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance hinting at a brewing storm. The threat of inclement weather did not deter the sky traffic or the foot traffic through the courtyard, but nobody else was taking the time to enjoy the view, which meant that they had an unexpected moment of privacy—as much as Nos Astra's security measures would allow.

"I love thunder storms," said Lysandra as soon as they reached the top observation deck which overlooked the metropolitan skyline. "I find them soothing. They have the marvelous ability to calm my nerves and allow me to sleep soundly no matter what my mood. Even if I am angry."

Lakota tightened her hold on the emissary's arm and smiled. "I never go to sleep angry. I like to stay awake and plot my revenge."

"Oh?" Lysandra turned her head toward the human. "Is that the only activity that will keep you awake in bed?"

Clearing her throat self-consciously, the Spectre replied, "I can think of at least one more. Maybe two."

The emissary playfully nudged Lakota in the ribs. "If you stick close to me, I'm sure we could add to your list."

"Of that, I have no doubt."

To Lakota, Lysandra had always exuded sex. It was in the way the tight black pants wrapped snuggly around her thighs accentuating her curves in politely provocative ways. It was how her form-fitting camisole highlighted the perfect shape of her breasts. It was in the technique used to apply her make-up, emphasizing her regal features with just a hint of wild abandon. It was embedded in her every seductive mannerism—the sway of her hips, the lilt in her voice, the flutter of her eyelashes, the way she invaded personal space as though wrapping herself in a forbidden blanket. It was a complete, intoxicating package.

In a swift, but delicate move, Lysandra extracted her arm from the Spectre's, and pressed the human's back on the railing, effectively pinning her in place. Then, the emissary stepped close, her words slipping out of her mouth as though intending to enfold Lakota in an intimate embrace. "You seem… distracted, Shepard."

Lakota found it difficult to swallow. "You are very distracting."

"Good," said the asari simply, then she leaned in, her lips hovering just above the Spectre's, waiting for the human to close the distance.

Breathing in deeply, Lakota caught the fragrance of the asari's sweet floral perfume, felt the heat radiating from her skin. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Bad decisions make great stories," whispered Lysandra, her lips still hovering, still waiting.

The Spectre chuckled ruefully. "Makes sense. Sometimes it feels like every morning is the dawn of a new mistake." Then she reached out, tenderly cupping the asari's cheek with her right hand. "You are incredibly beautiful."

"Hmm… That sounds suspiciously like the beginning of something I don't want to hear." Lysandra's inquisitive indigo eyes met green, and then she asked, "What's wrong?"

Desire woven within guilt and confusion bore down heavily on Lakota's chest making it difficult for her to breathe, as though a one ton weight had been dropped on it. Sighing in frustration, she confessed, "Timing. Bad fucking timing." She let out another bitter sigh and tried to explain. "I can't do this. I thought I was over it. I thought I had processed it. I thought I was in one place, but it turns out I haven't moved at all. I'm not where I thought I was." The moment the words were out of her mouth, the truth and depth of their meaning sank into her being. The knowledge had been plaguing her for weeks, but had stayed an idea in her head, an idea that was easily smothered and compartmentalized. Now that she had given form to those thoughts and had verbalized them to another, there was no taking them back. They had been set free and were no longer deniable. She was still in love with Liara.

"Ah…" Lysandra leaned back and nodded her head slowly. "I believe I understand."

The Spectre thought she caught the slightest hint of disappointment in the asari's eyes. "I'm so very sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Shepard. We asari are difficult to get over. It's part of our allure."

"Any advice to speed up the process?"

Smiling magnanimously, Lysandra said, "Sex with another asari of course."

Lakota choked down a rueful laugh. "And if that's not an option?"

"My mother gave me some sage advice once." Although her hands fell to Lakota's hips, the emissary remained in front of the human, keeping her from moving off the railing. "If you love something, turn it loose. If it doesn't come back, hunt it down and kill it."

The Spectre's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Hunt it down?"

"Yes… and kill it." The asari shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "My mother is rather hot-headed when it comes to relationships."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lakota chuckled, "Remind me never to fall in love with you."

"Or I you." The emissary raised her right hand and her fingertips gently traced the outline of the Spectre's face. "Also, keep in mind, as I learn the innermost secrets of the people around me, they reward me in many ways to keep me quiet. In your case, meaningless sex will suffice as payment."

This time Lakota did laugh out loud. "You are incorrigible."

"Part of my charm," quipped Lysandra. "The way I see it, you shouldn't be apologizing to me, but to yourself."

The Spectre felt her body stiffen at the asari's comment. "How so?"

"The Shepard I knew, the woman who saved the Citadel, would never sit idly by while the thing she wanted the most was within arm's reach. She would have met the fight head on, not tiptoed around the edge, avoiding the struggle."

Shaking her head dismissively, Lakota said, "It's not that simple."

"It's as simple as you allow it to be. You either want it, or you don't."

"It's not up to me."

"It most certainly is," chided the asari. "Relationships are like battles. You have a strategy, you assess your strengths, your weaknesses, and then you make your move. There are rules of engagement, but sometimes a risky strategy is required. If your attempt fails, at least you know you had the courage to fight for something you believe in. And if it succeeds, then you enjoy all the carnal rewards that come with victory."

For Lakota, the emissary's words hit hard and fast, like the coiled attack of a snake whose initial bite seems harmless until the venom seeps into your blood and burns a path to the heart bringing clarity just before death. She knew the emissary was right, that she hadn't put up any sort of fight in the face of Liara's dismissal. Instead she had licked her wounds and walked away. Shame and disappointment seethed beneath her flesh, but she wasn't ready to admit her failure to the asari. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"That, my dear Shepard, is where you are wrong again."

The emissary gently captured each side of Lakota's face between her hands and as she coaxed their eyes to meet, Lakota thought she saw a flicker of sadness within the indigo depths. "I don't know what happened over the last two years, but I know that woman still exists… somewhere. You've just got to find the courage to believe in her as I do."

"As you do?" The Spectre tilted her head, her eyes reflecting the disbelief in her thoughts.

"Yes. As I do." With the words still lingering in the air, Lysandra's lips captured Lakota's holding them in a soft, tender caress, not moving or trying to deepen the kiss—just existing in the solitary merger of their warm, pliant flesh.

Lakota was surprised by the emissary's bold move, but even more surprised by her own. Awash in a rising tide of desire and longing, she abandoned the conflict within her mind and immersed herself fully in the moment, giving herself over the flood of feelings cascading through her being. Her arms wrapped tightly around the emissary drawing their bodies closer together, and when she felt an inquisitive tongue sweep across her lips, she deepened the kiss by suckling it into her mouth, momentarily holding it hostage before beginning a licentious dance with her own.

Spurred on by the Spectre's passionate response, the fingers of Lysandra's right hand became tangled within black locks pressing their mouths firmly together as teeth nipped and teased while tongues continued their sensual game of give and take. Her left hand slipped around the human's lower back, forcing their hips to meet and intertwining their legs so completely that the sensation of where one began and another ended faded from their perception.

Lysandra was the first one to pull away, but a moment later Lakota's lips descended on hers again, ardent and demanding, continuing their hungry exchange until breathing became a necessity. When they pulled away for the second time, the Spectre's right hand reached out and tenderly caressed Lysandra's cheek. Then she leaned forward until their foreheads touched and held herself still, breathing in the cool night air and exhaling the tension wound throughout her body. The human and asari stayed statuesque, listening to the rumbling thunder, feeling the warmth of their close proximity, and sensing an understanding that was beginning to grow between them.

As the tingling sensation of arousal began to abate, Lakota murmured, "Wow... that was..."

"Breathtaking?"

"I was going to say amazing, but breathtaking works, too." Lakota inhaled slowly trying to further temper the heat cascading through her body. "I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you," she whispered, playfully.

"Sadly, I had no misconceptions about you." In an uncharacteristic act of shyness, Lysandra's head shifted and her eyes fell to the ground.

As lightning cleaved the sky, the pieces fell into place for Lakota. She now knew what fed Lysandra's behavior, but felt like a fool for having not seen it before. She inched forward, her left hand capturing the asari's right while her right reached for the emissary's downcast chin and tenderly lifted up until their eyes met. She held the asari's placid stare, delving into the intense indigo eyes, deep and dark as the ocean's depths. She saw the same sadness as before, but now she recognized that it matched the sadness within her own heart.

"Damn," sighed Lakota in a low, hushed tone. She took another deep breath, but this time her release was woven in regret. "It's too bad."

"What is?"

The Spectre leaned back in order to see the full features of Lysandra's face and was amazed when the asari's regal beauty, something that was just beginning to come to light within her awareness, broke on her like some rare flower. Wistfully, she replied, "I bet we would have been extraordinary."

Smiling devilishly, Lysandra said, "You have no idea."

"Now, you're just being evil."

Lysandra raised her left hand to Lakota's cheek and kissed her gently on the mouth. The moist velvety feel of their joined lips was both comforting and mesmerizing, but the Spectre knew it was also a bittersweet farewell.

When the kiss ended, Lakota started to say something, but the asari halted her response by placing a finger gently on her mouth. Then she leaned in, brushing her lips against Lakota's ear, and whispered, "Now, you're beginning to understand."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the Spectre alone as the rain began to fall.


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Liara sat at the desk in her office attempting to read the latest report from Omega as rain drops sounding like muted applause from a crowd pelted the outside window. Sighing heavily in frustration, she re-read the beginning paragraph for the fourth time, but it was still incomprehensible. She knew it wasn't the efficiency of the report though, she just couldn't stay focused. Her mind kept wandering to the security footage she had seen earlier in the day. Commander Lakota Shepard coming to the rescue of the asari emissary, Lysandra. Liara felt a tightness stretch across her chest; felt the heat on her cheeks as the familiar sensation of jealously burned through her veins. She hated that feeling, but had no ability to stop it once it assaulted her senses. The only way she could control it was by not thinking about Shepard, by working herself to exhaustion, to forgetfulness, to numbness which is why she was still at the office instead of at her apartment getting some rest. She knew sleep would be more elusive tonight than it had been in the last two years, and that was saying something.

As the rain continued its torrential assault, Liara closed her eyes and let her head fall into the palm of her right hand, the weight of the burdens she carried seeping into her bones. She was weary. The memory of Shepard walking into her Illium office, their final exchange, haunted her thoughts by ghosting on the edge of her awareness, an everlasting reminder of regret. That day, Shepard had wanted more than she could give and pushed the conversation to the point where she bitterly revealed that she had been the one who had given the Spectre's body to Cerberus- an organization that Shepard despised. And then when Shepard asked for her help, asked to join her on the _Normandy_, she refused. Liara told the Spectre that she had her own priorities, her own concerns, and that she needed to stay focused on atoning for her debts, but that wasn't the whole story. The rest was never uttered; it just lay in her thoughts, a truth that burned like a living coal in her soul. She had been afraid.

Liara had already lost her lover once, in a splintered mass of flames and metal, and had almost lost herself to grief in its aftermath. Logically, she had known that the possibility of one of them dying existed, but knowing it and experiencing it were two vastly different realities and in the wake of such trauma spread a jagged, festering wound oozing with guilt and remorse. Then without warning, two years after that infamous day, Shepard returned bringing with her the memory of all that anguish and surreptitiously exposed a wound that had never fully healed. Liara had been overwhelmed. The idea of putting herself at such risk again had been terrifying, so in an act of self-preservation she pushed Shepard away.

The moment the door closed on Shepard's receding form, Liara had felt a stark emptiness, like funeral shroud, blanket her being. With crystal clear clarity, she recognized what she had done and saw that she had made an irreparable mistake. She had been cold and remote to someone she loved all because fear had take root within her heart. She had been absolute in her refusal and in that absoluteness there was no room for forgiveness. Even if someday, somehow, Shepard was able to forgive her, she knew she would never be able to forgive herself. She had agonized over various ways to possibly reestablish a connection, but four weeks later, she still didn't know how to mend the rift and because second chances were for fiction and fairy tales she knew the truth would fade away, lost in the sands of time - never spoken, never known. She was still in love with Lakota Shepard.

Liara dropped the datapad on a stack of others, pushed her chair away from the desk and then began to pace the room, a newly acquired habit. She found the physical activity calming to her mind and usually the repetitive movement rewarded her with clarity. Sadly, the meditative routine wasn't working tonight. Even as she continued her back and forth march, she knew thoughts of Shepard wouldn't be so easily subdued. They never were.

Startled out of her reverie by the unexpected ring of her door chime, she ceased her pacing and then chided herself for not having taken the time to replace Nyxeris. Her halted movement placed her in front of the door, but the monitor showing the security vid of her office's entrance was back at her desk. Instead of taking the time to walk back there, blue tendrils of biotic energy rippled down her right arm. If someone was going to attack her, they were going to be in for a big surprise.

"Open," she growled, and then immediately took a step back, shocked by the sight before her—Commander Lakota Shepard, dressed in casual clothes, dripping wet from the rainy weather outside.

Liara's breath caught in her throat and she felt her heart pounding her chest, thundering like a war drum as the biotic energy along her arm drained away. She desperately tried to focus on the woman in front of her, but a light-headedness swept over her making it difficult to concentrate. She couldn't comprehend why the woman was there, at her office, in the middle of the night.

"Shepard," she said, trying to gain control of the situation, "what do you want?"

"You."

Then she felt warm lips possessively capture hers in a fierce, lustful kiss while powerful arms wrapped around her, infusing her against a firm body. The wet cloth was cool against her skin, but was quickly forgotten when demanding lips parted and tongues began a provocative dance of blissful entanglement. Like a tide being swooned by the moon's ardent pull, she was swallowed in the waves of a heavenly delirium. As strong hands securely fastened on the base of her neck and back keeping any idea of escape a futile possibility, she realized that for the first time in her life she was beginning to believe in fairy tales.

* * *

Author's End Note:

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the tale!

If you want to find out what happens next, then take a look at "The Reclaiming." It is the conclusion to this story...


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